


Anyone Else Just Really Love Their Dynamic?

by Timewormbloom



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timewormbloom/pseuds/Timewormbloom
Summary: Two unrelated stories centered around Crowley and Halt and their interaction. The first is them dealing with the ‘Rangers’ Morgarath appointed, and the second is Halt telling Crowley about his past.





	Anyone Else Just Really Love Their Dynamic?

      One of Crowley’s task as the newly appointed Commandment was to get rid of all the obnoxious idiots currently pronouncing around in silk cloaks. Of course, he could have just stuck with the original plan and signed the letters King Duncan was going to send out, but he had taken one look at the mountain of paperwork waiting for him and promptly grabbed Halt after insisting that it was ‘his duty as the new Commandment’. King Duncan though that was utter nonsense, but he had his own paperwork and didn’t have time to deal with his shenanigans. 

 

         The guards had taken one look at the Rangers waiting at the gate and stepped aside. The pompous fool had officially irritated every single person in the castle. Of course, they simply couldn’t let them go without giving them a very interesting tidbit of information. Apparently the insufferable bastard had a nuclear meltdown every time he got so much a drop of water on his cloak. At that moment both Rangers noticed the moat and shared a meaningful look. Neither of them had to confirm their thoughts. 

 

        Those helpful words of wisdom turned out to be true as Crowley and Halt watched an adult having what could only be described as a tantrum as a single droplet of wine fell on him. They had a clear view of the head table from where they were  lurking sneakily watching from the edges of the room. Crowley could all but hear Halt’s scowling. 

 

         “Bastard,” Halt all but growled. Crowley replied with a cheery smile and a pat on the back. To be honest, Crowley was about three seconds from fighting someone, but waiting would be so much more fun. 

 

         “Now?” Crowley asked, nerves alight with anticipation. Crowley didn’t bother to turn and see the smirk he knew Halt was sporting. He also didn’t bother to signal Halt to start moving. They both simply waited for the slightest lapse in conversation before slinking of. 

 

        Halt wished he could remember the look on the imposter’s face forever. But considering how Crowley was probably going to talk about this forever he likely would. A few minutes later, and a very wet and very bruised former Ranger was fuming as he was forced to hand over anything that could even remotely signify he was a Ranger and pack his bags. While the local baron kept up his neutral indifference, it wasn't hard to find the pleased look in his eyes. 

 

        “That was effective,” Halt mused thoughtfully as they bed down in the Ranger cabin a few miles away. 

 

        “Oh dear, we’ve unleashed a monster!” Crowley cried in fake horror only for Halt to launch a pillow at his face. 

 

        “Shut up,” Halt muttered, but Crowley noticed there wasn't any bite to it. 

 

        “Never. You’re stuck. There’s no escape!” He mock shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. Only to receive a light yet solid hit to the chest as he jostled Halt. 

 

        “I will throw you in a moat,” was all Crowley heard before he fell soundly asleep.

 

* * *

 

       When one receives a message labeled urgent, one expects it to be urgent. Not an overly cheerful pain in the ass wanting to rant about nobles that are every more of a pain in the ass.  Whatever, Halt has lived that for nearly his entire life. Crowley could just deal with it. Besides, it wasn’t like Crowley was responsible for entertaining them or negotiating with them. 

 

        Halt toyed with the idea of telling Crowley the truth about his past, but rejected it. It was certainly not the last time it had crossed his mind and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He let the routine blast of guilt wash over him, but shouldered on. He had left that behind. If it so much as mildly damaged his relationships now he was going loose it. 

 

       Halt sent back a brief letter summarizing his displeasure at being worried. Despite it being brief, he somehow managed to add nearly every curse he knew in. A few days later he received a message also labeled as urgent that merely contained a sad face. 

 

      He knew Crowley just wanted annoy him, and he also knew that Crowley knew how much he despised people misusing important emergency systems. Still he couldn’t stop the fond smile that grew traitorously over his face. 

 

       He glanced over at the message that started this whole thing. Suddenly, he was struck by a thought. What if he never told him? What if he died carrying his greatest secret, never telling the people (more spherically the person) that meant the most to him? The wrongness of that thought was enough to nearly send him to the floor. While it may be behind him, it was still a part of him and if anyone deserved to know it was Crowley. 

 

      Before he could rethink it, he grabbed a slip of paper and wrote three sentences. Still high on the rush of emotions, he rode to Castle Redmond to give it to a messenger. At the last moment he added that it was urgent. 

 

       Out of all the possible outcomes that arose from his decisions, Crowley bursting through his door was probably one of the more mild. His faithful horse barely had the chance to notify him of a friend approaching. 

 

        “Morning,” Halt remarked casually. Crowley stalked over and grabbed his shoulders. 

 

       “I thought at first that this was just your sense of humor,” Crowley told him, clearly agitated. “But the fact that you labeled this as urgent, and the last line…” he added, trailing off into silence to let Halt explain. 

 

       “I never intended on telling anyone, but not telling you felt wrong,” Halt softly told him. Crowley just threw his arms around him in a hug. 

 

      “I’m glad you told me,” he replied, before adding in typical Crowley fashion, “but what I don’t get is how you grew up in a literal palace but still manage to look like a hobo.” 

 

       Halt scoffed but accepted the hug. A warm feeling sprouted up in his chest but he would never tell Crowley that him accepting his past was a huge milestone for Halt, thank you very much. 

 

      The note lay forgotten on a table, with three simple sentences. ‘I’m technically the crown prince of Hibernia. My brother tried to kill me so I left. If you hate me I understand.’


End file.
